


Mirrored Regret

by MBM



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: First Meetings, Hand Jobs, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MBM/pseuds/MBM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Charles what kind of handjob did you just give Erik, you just met him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrored Regret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arcanewinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanewinter/gifts).



> So, in all honesty, I should not have written this. Why? Well, I'm supposed to be working on my NaNoWriMo project. However, this (http://arcanewinter.tumblr.com/post/12219750541/kinogirl) came across my tumblr, and I just had to fill it. Figured I may as well add the finished product to AO3 while I'm at it.
> 
> For those reading I Learned to Live Half Alive (http://archiveofourown.org/works/269194/chapters/424133), that update is in the works. Juggling a few things, but it will be updated sometime this week. At least, that's the goal.
> 
> In any case, hope you enjoy the following!

Charles lifted the key to his room and inserted it into the lock, making a valiant effort to avoid his thoughts. Instead, he focused instead on the cousins a room below, giggling with each other about being up so late when they’d been sent to bed hours ago by parents who now slept; on the man dreaming about flying a floor up and two rooms over as Charles opened his door. He closed the door, ending his foray into other people’s minds when he realized that the couple down the hall were having sex.

He turned the light on, the suit’s living room suddenly brilliantly lit, and tossed his keys on the low table in front of the small couch. He walked on into the bedroom, flicking that light on as he reached up to undo his bow tie only to remember that _that_ had already been done for him earlier.

Damn it, why couldn’t Charles keep from thinking about it? He went into the bathroom, not turning this light on, although he left the door open so it filtered in from the bedroom. He faced the mirror, taking in his own appearance as he ran a hand through his hair.

 _Charles what kind of handjob did you just give Erik, you just met him._ He admonished himself silently.

And really, what had he been thinking?

He had flown into the city to be his sister’s escort to the International Debutante Ball at her insistence, as their parents had made it quite clear she would not get out of attending. Raven, well aware that Charles could not deny his lovely younger sister anything, had called, emailed, and text him the very same day incessantly until she’d managed to reach him and pleaded her case as dramatically as she told any story when she felt she’d been wronged. He’d been careful to hide his amusement at her plight and assured her he would come.

So he had, though he’d made a point to arrive much too late to take part in a number of the ritual activities that took place preceding the ball. Really, he much preferred Oxford to New York City, where his parents were to ensure he made the appropriate appearances required of someone of his standing in society. Charles had always thought it quite ridiculous, and although he had felt some guilt at abandoning his sister to face it alone, college had beckoned and in any case, Raven was headstrong enough to get out of most things.

Raven’s relief at having him there, though, caused that bit of guilt to stir and he didn’t regret the lecture he would be missing out on or the paper he would miss marks on for rushing through in order to turn it in before he left.

“I’m so glad you’re here for this,” Raven had enthused in the midst of it all. Her blond hair was pulled into what their mother called a “Spanish chignon”, exposing her long neck and shoulders, as she wore a sleeveless white dress. It made her look very grown up, if not at all like the person Charles knew her to be. “I feel like I’m on show as it is whenever they drag me to parties with these people; now I’m _actually_ on show and it’s only going to be worse.”

Charles frowned, brushing but not actually going into her thoughts. She was the only one with whom he’d ever had that consideration, no matter how great the temptation. “Has someone found out…?” he began.

“What? Oh, no,” Raven assured him, squeezing his arm lightly. “It’s our dear ‘Mum and Dad’,” she said, imitating his accent. “They keep moving on up, so everyone’s directing their daughters to be my best friend or their sons to try and make me their girlfriends.”

Charles had smiled, patting her hand where it still lay on his arm. “Yes, well, I still get messages from our mother asking me to come meet so-and-so’s daughter, she’s a very lovely girl.”

His sister made a sound of sympathy. “That woman will never except the truth, even if she walked in on you and some guy doing the nasty.”

“Raven, really,” Charles said with a shake of his head.

She grinned impishly at him. “I’m just being honest. Of course, if you want to stop batting for the same team as me, I have it on good authority that a number of the girls here would be more than happy to indulge you.”

“Really, now, you’re incorrigible,” Charles had scolded.

Then their mother had appeared at their side, interrupting them to steal Raven away for some introductions and bragging, for their accomplishments were really only for a sense of pride when telling others of them. Charles had given her a sympathetic smile, wondering what he might do to occupy himself in the meantime.

Most of those his age in attendance were ones very much into the social scene, which meant they were not at all the kind of people Charles associated with when he could help it. Growing up, he was easily liked but never close with many of those in his social circles for their interests were not ones he shared. He found better friends among those who shared his thirst for knowledge, intellectual types who didn’t always necessarily land among the wealthy. Charles had also been interested in those with mutations, but finding friends of those kinds was a lot more difficult because none of them wanted to be outed. After all, people in general seemed oblivious that mutants existed; why risk exposing them all to be among more of your own kind?

Charles found it rather lonely, really, to have the ability to know another mutant just by skimming their minds but being unable to ever tell them, “You are not alone. I share your ability.” It was a loneliness he sometimes felt acutely without Raven around, for while theirs was most often one of thinking they were the only one of their kind, his was from knowing that they were there within arm’s reach, but he could never approach them. The one exception had been another telepath, who he’d met once at a social event in California. It had been a brief meeting, though not one he’d likely ever forget. She had been curious, tried probing his mind, and been wholly unhappy to find that Charles was easily stronger than she. From that point on, she’d refused to speak to him the rest of the night and Charles had never gotten the opportunity to speak with her since.

He found his thoughts interrupted, though, as some of the girls Raven had been speaking of came over to speak with him. Some wore the white dresses of a debutante while others were older sisters, cousins, family friends around his age or even older. They came alone or in numbers, finding excuses to speak with him. Charles made polite conversations for a moment or two before making equally polite apologies and escaping.

“What a show. It is rather amusing the way they seem to be willing to chase you around the room.”

Charles, having slipped behind a rather tall ice sculpture set up on a platform to one side of the room as decoration, jumped and looked to see who had spoken. Standing off to the side and leaning against the nearby wall was a man he didn’t recognize. There was no way to doubt that he was the one to have spoken for, besides being the only one close enough to do so, he was staring directly at Charles.

“Glad the ladies and I could provide you with some amusement, my friend,” Charles replied, a little annoyed at being caught by surprise and being the source of the other man’s entertainment. Unconsciously, he tugged at the edge of his tux, straightening it, although he hadn’t actually ran at any point, so it was still as impeccable as ever.

 _Charles._

He looked up, Raven’s thought loud and clear to him. _Here,_ he thought in her direction. _Behind this hideous sculpture of some bird or another_.

“They weren’t the only ones I was referring to,” the man said at the same time his conversation with Raven was taking place. There was the hint of an accent there Charles couldn’t place.

Before Charles could reply, Raven came around the corner, saying, “It’s supposed to be a dove, I believe, not that anyone can tell. I-oh, Mr. Lehnsherr, I didn’t see you there. Do you two know each other…?”

Raven was looking between her brother and the man, whom Charles could only deduce to be this “Mr. Lehnsherr”. He quickly shook his head, but it was Mr. Lehnsherr who spoke first.

“No, and may I say, you look absolutely stunning, Miss Darkholme. I was simply commenting about your escort’s plight in escaping the attentions of the other women,” he clarified.

“Ah, yes, well. Charles has that effect on people,” Raven said, shaking her head as she slipped her arm through Charles’. “It’s that British charm he just can’t seem to turn off.”

“You know, I _am_ standing right here,” Charles reminded them. “No need to speak as if I am not.” He wondered who the man was to know his sister well enough that she felt comfortable with him.

“Yet you brought him here,” Mr. Lehnsherr was saying. “It seems you have great faith that he won’t betray you.” At the implication, Raven began laughing and Charles couldn’t help the amused smile that it brought to his face. It was not the first, and he doubted the last time, someone would mistake he and Raven for something more than siblings. The other man gave them a puzzled look.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” clarified Raven between giggles. “This is my brother.”

His expression changed, and Charles couldn’t read it. “Ah,” Mr. Lehnsherr said. “So this is the famous Charles Xavier, then.”

“Famous? Hardly,” Charles scoffed.

“Heh, yes, this is my brother Charles. Charles, this is Erik Lehnsherr. He moved here a few months ago.” Raven made the necessary introductions, and Erik Lehnsherr came forward to shake Charles hand.

“A pleasure, Raven talks about you all the time,” Erik said as Charles took his proffered hand.

The shock that ran up his arm, followed by a quick rush of images and impressions from the other man’s mind, were wholly unexpected. Neither lasted very long, the latter only seconds before Charles reacted and blocked them and the handshake only as long as was polite before he removed his hand from the others.

“Pleasure’s mine,” Charles said evenly, attempting to keep how disconcerting one small touch had been, acutely aware of the taller man’s gaze still on him.

Someone came by then with a tray with an array of drinks. Champagne for the adults, which Erik accepted a glass of, and sparkling cider for the minors, which Raven wrinkled her nose at but took. Charles took one as well, needing a drink suddenly, and only vaguely noting how there was a metal band around the bowl of the champagne flute.

“So I didn’t know you were coming,” Raven was saying to Mr. Lehnsherr.

“Initially, I wasn’t going to,” he admitted. “However, few things in my schedule changed and I found I suddenly had the free time.” He lowered his voice and added conspiratorially, “I was also curious to see the type of get-up they would put on your fellow debutante, Miss Olivia Freedmont.” His eyes lifted to look across the room and Charles found his gaze following to see what he was looking at, or more precisely, at whom.

Raven nearly choked on her drink as she started to laugh, coughing slightly. “I don’t think her mom let her pick this dress,” she said, smiling.

Charles felt rather the intruder, with the two of them so obviously familiar with each other. He suddenly wondered what had induced him to continue his education when he already had a number of degrees. He shook his head, though, reminding himself he was doing what he loved, and the moment passed. Except for the awkward, third-wheel feeling. That remained. He noted another waiter nearby, met his eyes so he would come over and finished the rest of his drink in a gulp so he could switch his now-empty glass for a new one.

He looked back at Erik, who was leaning down to whisper something in Raven’s ear, pointing to someone else in the room, and Charles wondered at the other man’s behavior. There was a moment’s debate about reading his mind. On the one hand, Charles had his own little code of conduct in regards to his powers which included not delving into people’s mind unless necessary, which was rare. Brushing the surface thoughts was one thing, especially when people had a tendency of thinking loudly, but he might need to delve a little further to read hidden motives. This did concern Raven, though, and for his sister he would do just about anything.

So while they conversed, Charles drank his champagne, subtly brushing a hand against his temple as if to brush his hair back and moved gently into the other man’s mind. There, in regards to Raven, all he felt was genuine enjoyment of her company and brother-like affection for her. Enough that he felt guilty having doubted the man, though it was only natural having just met him.

What surprised him, though, was that suddenly Erik Lehnsherr had stopped talking to Raven and looked about the room, brow furrowed, as Charles removed himself from his mind. He couldn’t have felt that, could he…? Charles made a note that perhaps he shouldn’t attempt that again with alcohol in his system.

“Erik?” Raven tried to follow his gaze, wondering why he’d stopped mid-sentence, but the other man didn’t respond.

“Mr. Lehnsherr,” Charles said, waving a hand in front of his face and resisting the urge to give him a mental nudge.

He stirred, looked over at Charles, and finally responded. “Ah, my apologies. And call me Erik.”

“Why does he get to call you by your first name? You just met,” Raven whined.

“Because,” Erik explained patiently. “Having someone who is undoubtedly about, or close to, my age calling me ‘Mr.’ makes me feel inappropriately old, whereas it is simply appropriate from someone younger like yourself. You can call me Erik, too, though, if you prefer.”

Raven smiled, making it quite clear that yes, she preferred it.

“The accent; where are you from? I can’t quite place it,” Charles suddenly asked. He’d been trying to figure it out and found he really wanted to know.

Erik turned his attention back on him and smiled. “Happens to most people,” he assured him. “I’m originally from Germany, although I’ve been around Europe. I speak six languages, so the slight accent you hear is a bit of a mix.”

“Six. Fascinating. I’m afraid my grasp on almost all other languages except English and a bit of Spanish is pretty shite,” he admitted.

“Something Mr. Genius here hates to admit,” Raven added with a grin.

“Spanish, huh? Let me guess, you had an exotic-looking, pretty Spanish teacher,” Erik teased, which only caused Raven’s grin to widen. When Charles just shrugged with a muttered, “Something like that,” trading his depleted glass for another filled one with which he could avoid elaborating as he pointedly didn’t make eye contact, Erik added, “I was right, then?”

Only partially. It hadn’t been a teacher, but a foreign exchange student, and it had most definitely not been a woman. Raven was amused because it was how she had found out her brother was gay. She’d come home one day after school to find the other guy leaning over Charles, kissing him very thoroughly. She still liked to tease him that he had ruined her innocence that day.

If Raven hadn’t told the man her brother was gay, Charles was not about to make him aware of that fact. It just seemed like an awkward thing to suddenly point out to a man he’d just met, most especially such an attractive man as Erik Lehnsherr. He grabbed another glass of champagne.

“There you two are.” They turned to find Sharon and Kurt Darkholme coming towards them. She noted Erik’s presence and sent him a dazzling smile. “Why, Mr. Lehnsherr, if we had known you were here tonight we would have made a point of coming to greet you. I see you have met my son, Charles.”

“Yes, your daughter was kind enough to introduce us,” Erik said, all polite charm.

“I’m afraid we have an early day tomorrow, so we must be going. Raven?” The younger girl gave Charles a look that clearly said how she felt about being forced to leave now that she was enjoying herself, and mentally he could feel her roll her eyes. She knew better, though, than to do so to their parents while someone outside the family was around. “Charles, you never said how long you were staying for.”

“Only the night, Mother,” Charles answered her, all smiles. His charm might win him over any number of other people, but he was well aware of how immune to it his mother and stepfather were. “I have exams coming up this week which require my speedy return, and then I shall be back for the holidays.”

“So you’re not coming home?” Raven asked, disappointed.

He smiled over at her. “No, I will be staying at a hotel before taking an early flight back to England. I shall be back in little more than a week, and I shall be sure to spoil you rotten with attention.”

“Have a safe flight, then,” his mother said, interrupting the moment between the siblings. She leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a rare occurrence, and one he was sure was for show. “Mr. Lehnsherr, you have a good evening.”

“You as well. Miss Darkholme.” He bowed over Raven’s hand and pressed a kiss to it, making the younger girl giggle. “Until next time.”

Charles bid his family goodbye, then turned to Erik to say goodbye. After all, with his sister gone, he had no reason to linger here. He was surprised to find the other man staring at him very intently. “I, uh, should probably get going as well,” he managed after a moment. “As I said before, I have an early flight.”

“Back to England, yes. To Oxford, correct? I remember Raven mentioning you go there,” Erik said.

“Yes, and I’m afraid classes aren’t over for the term for a bit longer.”

“Any way I might convince you to go for a drink with me anyway?” Erik asked, voice pitched low, and Charles was suddenly aware of the other man being much too close for comfort.

He felt his face warm, and he hoped it wasn’t quite as noticeable as he feared, though he supposed he could blame it on the champagne. What number was he on, anyway, and how much had he had to drink prior to running into Mr. Lehnsherr?

He opened his mouth to reply when Charles was suddenly tackled from behind, having been too focused on the man in front of him to pay attention to the hundreds of other people in the room. In his surprise, he dropped the glass he’d been holding as a pair of slim arms wrapped around his chest. The feel of the other body against his back was decidedly female, and he watched in dismay as the glass he’d had in his hand, surprisingly _not_ empty of its alcoholic contents, fell to its demise.

Or what should have been. It seemed for a moment as if it floated for a split second before Erik reached out and stopped it from smashing against the floor.

“Charles! I thought you might have left before I had a chance to speak with you. So glad to see you didn’t,” the girl was saying, and he dimly noted that he knew that voice.

He was too focused on what he’d seen, though, and it took him a moment to respond. Charles could honestly say he was just shy of being drunk and, had he driven a car here, he would likely be leaving without it. However, he was also sure he’d have seen the same thing just now had he been 100% sober.

“Hello, Moira,” he said, finally. He half turned his head to look at the woman behind him. She was Raven’s age, although the two girls really weren’t friends, per se. More that their parents were often together, so they kept each other company from time to time, but that was about it. Moira, however, had a not-so-secret crush on Charles, so she put more effort into the forced acquaintance than Raven could ever be bothered to. “Did you manage to get your hands on some champagne?”

She giggled, confirming that fact as much as the high color in her face and the slight glassy look to her eyes did. “My cousin let me have some of his. Where’s Raven? Barely spoke to her; wanted to tell her she looked _great_.”

“She has already departed, but I will be sure to pass along the message.” He looked around for her cousin, remembering that the older girl had been about his age. When he spotted her, he sent her a mental nudge to look for and check-up on Moira, and it only took a few moments for her to wander closer at his direction. “I do believe your cousin is looking for you, though, Moira.”

“Oh, no, hide me, Charles. My parents left and said I could stay while she’s here; I don’t want to go yet,” Moira said plaintively, burying her face into his back as her arms tightened around him.

Erik spoke up finally, and Charles wondered if the annoyance he thought he heard in the other’s voice was imagined or not. “Miss McTaggart, that would be irresponsible. I doubt your cousin would be happy with Charles if he did that.” He looked up beyond them and added, “Her cousin, I supposed? You should probably keep a better eye on her if you’re going to allow her to drink.”

“S-Sorry about that,” the woman said, Charles’ mind providing her name as being Ruth. “Come on, Moira. I think it’s time you got to bed.” With a pout, the debutante obeyed, as was her nature. Ruth threw Charles an apology over her shoulder, which he accepted with simply a nod and assurance that it wasn’t a problem. Moira bid Charles goodbye and followed her chaperone out of the room.

Charles then rounded on Erik, determined to get an answer. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” Erik asked in turning, raising an eyebrow.

He seemed at a genuine loss, so Charles elaborated. “With the glass. It should have hit the ground and shattered.”

“I have fast reflexes,” Erik dismissed. “Not to brag, so I hope you don’t take it as such, but I’m fairly athletic.”

“Not what I meant,” Charles said, then decided to risk himself and add mentally, _It floated a moment before you grabbed it._

Erik’s eyes widened slightly, then he grinned, looking positively predatory. Why did it seem as if he suddenly had more teeth than any man should? Charles for some reason got the image of a shark, beautiful and dangerous.

“So that was you earlier,” Erik accused, voice low so as not to be overheard, despite the few people wandering anywhere near their remote side of the room. “Now I _must_ insist you have that drink with me. Then I promise to explain everything.”

Charles had been tempted in the first place; now, he wanted nothing more. He agreed, and Erik set the glass he’d never even finished and Charles’ on the table. He nodded to Charles, holding an arm out for him to precede out of the room and the telepath did so. Outside, Erik stopped by the valet area, passing over his ticket to the boy there.

A moment later, the most beautiful car Charles had ever seen pulled up right in front of him, one he vaguely remembered an Oxford friend gushing about prior to its release. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that this man owned one of the most recently released luxury cars, especially one as sleek and beautiful as the SLS AMG Roadster. Leaving the engine running as he stepped out of the vehicle and walked back to Erik, Charles found he couldn’t help but run an appreciative hand along the vehicles dark gray exterior, hand brushing against the metal. The reflection on the window was of Erik, handing over what must have been a generous tip by the look the valet gave him before the other man looked over, licking his lips after a moment of studying Charles. Charles, for his part, found that his heart rate had picked up and pointedly looked away from the window, not knowing or caring if he’d been caught.

“In you go,” Erik said, reaching around Charles to open the door. Charles got in and Erik went around to the driver’s side, slipping in before they were off. “So the glass,” Erik prompted.

“Yes. How?” Charles jumped on the subject readily, there not being enough alcohol in existence to quench his curiosity. “Are you telekinetic? Or was it something else?”

“Metal,” Erik said, grinning at Charles’ enthusiasm. “I can control it.” He went on to demonstrate by making all the change in Charles’ pocket float out of it and in front of his face.

Charles stared, completely astonished. “That is amazing, my friend! Is it the metal itself or is it more of a magnetic power? Is there a limit to how much you can control? Can you do the same with larger object, and how much larger?”

Erik laughed in response. “Slow down there, Charles. Raven was right, you _are_ ever the academic.”

Charles colored, but he could sense without prying that Erik meant no harm. He was teasing him, and he found he rather enjoyed it.

They didn’t go far to reach their destination. Erik pulled up in front of an upscale club Charles had heard plenty of but never bothered to go to, but considering the familiarity of the valet with Erik as he took his key, it seemed the same didn’t go for the other man. They went inside and were ushered over to a private area by a man Charles suspected was either the manager or owner of the place. They sat, Charles noting how secluded their little corner seemed despite the music from the dance area still pumping at a decent volume. It was only a matter of minutes, if even, before a bottle was brought to them.

“You seem to be a rather popular man,” Charles observed, taking the glass passed to him by the smiling, flirtatious waitress.

Erik smiled. “Not me so much as my money.” It was said without a hint of resentment; just an honest statement. “You, on the other hand, seem to genuinely win people over. Not to be offensive, but is it a result of your power?”

Charles began to shake his head as he took a sip of his drink, paused, then said thoughtfully, “I don’t believe it’s completely due to it. I must admit that it’s an ability I’ve always had, so I don’t always think about it. Surely, it has helped avoid social pitfalls others aren’t always aware of until it’s too late.”

“I’m curious; what were you prying for earlier?” Erik’s body seemed deceptively at ease, but Charles had the sudden notion that if he didn’t the answer, he would find himself in a very ugly situation.

In any case, he was sure he’d drank much too much alcohol to bother with lying when really, there was no need to.

“My sister,” he began. “Making sure your intentions towards her were pure.”

Again, he seemed to have caught Erik by surprise, and the man laughed. A sound Charles was finding he liked very much. “Protective older brother, are you?”

“Very,” Charles admitted.

“Noble. Rest assured, I have no intentions whatsoever where Raven is concerned.”

Charles nodded, having seen as much. He finished his drink, setting his glass down on the table as Erik shifted, and he was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting together. It suddenly felt much too hot to be in a tux, and he said as much.

“Perhaps you should take off your coat,” Erik suggested, and something about the way he said it made Charles all the warmer. He reached a hand forward, tugging at Charles’ bow tie until it came undone. “Relax, I won’t bite.” Something about the way he was looking at him made Charles think that unspoken were the words, _Unless you want me to._

Or had Erik Lehnsherr actually thought it, purposely loud enough for the telepath to hear.

Charles swallowed, licking his lips, and wondering if he should have another drink. On the one hand, he had a feeling he was much too drunk to be in this situation, much less to take the chance of going past the point of making any rational decision. On the other, he suspected he might have passed that point awhile ago, so another drink could hardly hurt. He found the decision taken from him when the waitress came back with shots that Erik accepted, passing him one. Had he missed a silent signal or was this just customary?

“ _Prost_!” Erik said, lifting his glass in a way that Charles deduced what he’d said and mimicked it, tipping his head back as he drank whatever the concoction was in one fell swoop.

He had never been big on shots, finding he always managed to miss some of the contents of the glass so it dribbled down the side of his mouth and down his chin. The way Erik’s eyes followed liquid’s progress made him forget the warmth caused by the alcohol in favor of the one slightly lower caused by those greenish-gray eyes that looked darker in the club’s dim lighting. Then Erik lifted a hand to brush away the alcohol with his thumb, brushing lightly against Charles’ bottom lip, and Charles had a split second to think he was most _definitely_ drunk, and horny, before he was closing the distance to kiss the German business man.

There was barely a hesitation from the other before Erik’s hand was moving to the back of Charles’ neck to hold him in place and his tongue was demanding entry so he might deepen the kiss. Charles was only too happy to grant it, moving so he was pressed against Erik’s side. He laid his hand against the other man’s chest, feeling the muscles beneath his clothing.

He broke away finally to breathe, and Erik moved his mouth along Charles’ jaw, to his ear where he nibbled on the lobe before moving down to his neck. Charles gave in to temptation, sliding his hand down Erik’s chest towards his stomach, then towards the edge of the other man’s pants. There was a muffled groan against his neck he took as assent, so he quickly undid the belt and pants with minimal fumbling and slipped his hand within. Erik wore what felt like boxer briefs, and Charles rubbed at his growing erection over the cloth of his underwear. There was a hitch in Erik’s breathing, a pause in the kisses along his neck, and what sounded like a muttered swear in some language other than English.

Then Erik was cupping Charles’ face and kissing him again, tongue brushing over lips and teeth and tongue; it was demanding and Charles loved every second of it. Even as his mouth was ravished, he continued his ministrations before finding that he wanted more contact. So he slipped his hand inside the German’s boxer briefs and took his erection in his hand.

Erik groaned into his mouth, and Charles grinned. He moved his hands best he could considering the restriction caused by the man’s clothing, but that was quickly removed as Erik broke away, lifting his hips so he could push it all down enough to free his dick and therefore Charles’ hand of them.

The vague thought that he should perhaps shield them in case anyone wandered over flitted through his mind, and Charles focused on doing just that. It would be much too difficult to have them see something happening there that wasn’t, something too elaborate for his mind to manage in its current state, but he could sustain the much easier task of keeping them from looking in their direction at all.

So while Erik went back to kissing and biting his ear, his neck, the edge of his jaw, and his lips, Charles sent out the command, _don’t look._ As he ran his thumb over the head of Erik’s penis, smearing precum against his fingers, his power thrummed with, _don’t look here_. Even as Erik groaned against his neck, moving against Charles’ hand, he still sent out the urge to look anywhere but into the private area they occupied. So when Erik finally came with a muffled cry, Charles knew that no one was privy to it but them. He knew that, but Erik didn’t, and he wondered if the other man had assumed he could and would, or simply didn’t care.

Then he remembered how everyone knew Erik, none questioned his sudden appearance, there was a table ready, and drinks brought without prompting. Drinks that Erik obviously liked. Had he done this before? If so, how often? Was Charles just one more in a long list of others charmed, brought here, and seduced? But he was the one who’d made the first move, wasn’t he?

Charles suddenly felt a lot more sober than he’d been in the past, what? Half hour, hour? More? He couldn’t even honestly say how long he’d known this man!

These thoughts all took mere seconds, and Charles announced even before Erik had fully recovered, “I should be going.” He wiped his hands against the fabric of plush seating, then stood.

“What? Charles…” Erik sat up, confusion written across his face. Charles was so tempted to just read his mind, but considering his earlier attempt, while successful, had been felt, he thought it best to not do so.

“Don’t worry, I’ll grab a taxi. Good night.” Charles barely looked at him as he suddenly made to exit. He no longer bothered with keeping people’s attention away, and the moment it was gone, the waitress from earlier was once again headed in their direction.

Charles heard Erik call his name, then abruptly stop and he figured he was making himself as presentable as possible. How he would explain anything to the waitress or the manager, if one was even needed, he didn’t know or care. He just suddenly wanted to be out of there. Using his powers, he scanned ahead for a taxi, urging the first he found mentally so he’d practically be at the curb when he emerged, then Charles practically threw himself inside. Should Erik actually attempt to follow, Charles thought, he would be long gone by the time the other reached the club’s doors.

Which brought Charles to the present, staring at his reflection. He remembered to wash his hands, then turned away from himself in disgust. Really, what had he been thinking? He could have avoided all this if he’d just read the other’s mind more thoroughly, seen that his intentions towards Raven were pure but not the ones towards Charles.

No, that wasn’t fair. Charles had made the first move. Erik, after all, was not a telepath who could manipulate his thoughts and feelings. Still, it had been a bad idea and Charles was glad the other had no idea how to find him. He doubted Erik would attempt to contact Raven to find out where her brother was, and he would be sure to wake up as early as possible, see if he might switch his ticket for an earlier flight. Even if he had to abuse his power to do so.

He stripped his clothes off, throwing on the Oxford sweats he’d packed, then threw himself onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered if he could back out of having to return later in the month as he’d already said he was going to do. Perhaps he could convince his parents to send Raven to him for the holidays instead.

Then he wouldn’t run the risk of seeing Erik Lehnsherr again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am well aware that this can be continued, and perhaps someday I shall. Someday after this crazy month, because I don't think I can add a fourth writing project right now. :s
> 
> Kudos are welcomed, comments more so! :D


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